


Plastic Daffodils

by Resa_Saso



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bit of Post-War angst, M/M, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 17:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18696346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resa_Saso/pseuds/Resa_Saso
Summary: Trying to stop the Nestene Consciousness, the Doctor runs past an Auton with a yellow daffodil. Which, of course, means nothing. But might mean everything || This is based on the target novel of "Rose", in which RTD mentions the yellow daffodil and I immdiately cried and didn't stop until today.





	Plastic Daffodils

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, the Rose target novel brought up the Yellow Daffodil on the Autons jacket, and I immidiately thought "Wow, Nine must've felt like crap seeing that, bet he really missed the Master!" and so this piece of aimless fix-it fic happened. Took me a few months to finish it because it goes absolutely nowhere, but I thought I can still upload it because,,,, Hey, it might be aimless, but it's kinda nice.

The Doctor only saw the mime for the fraction of a second, from the corner of his eyes, his hands still full with trying to retrace the signal to the Nestene Consciousness. But then he heard Rose say his name in some hesitation and when he looked up, he saw. He saw him coming closer, leaving surprised people in his wake, who had just given the mime money because he so effectively stood still.  
  
He didn't want to stand still anymore, not after he had heard the Doctor's name.  
  
The Time Lord grinned proudly.  
  
“Good job!”  
  
He meant it. Trouble was part of the job and Rose seemed to attract it even better than him. He should definitively keep her around, he thought.  
  
That mime is wearing a yellow plastic daffodil, his never resting brain noted.  
  
Oh, he thought.  
  
The war had shaken him up. He had spent the last few years on his own, had not once looked into a mirror, couldn't stand the idea of seeing his own eyes, the eyes of a lonely murderer.  
  
Meeting Rose had been difficult in many ways.  
  
She had reminded him of what he had been like before the war. What life had been like, always running, answering stupid questions, having someone to talk to, to amaze, to laugh with. To share his adventures.  
But he couldn't forget that he didn't deserve her.  
  
He just couldn't forget the screams of all his people, dying, burning, their telepathic connection to him fading away, one by one, while he was left alive, in his ship, too hurt to cry.  
  
Broken, he thought. He had been broken in a way that made him feel like a part of him had died on Gallifrey, a part of him had died with the Daleks, and a little, tiny part of him remained with him, still burning, forever burning, but undeserving of mercy.  
  
But now he ran with her. She had gripped his hand almost instinctively and they ran through the dark, wet streets of London, slithering, grinning, running right into the lion's cave. And oh, there were Autons chasing them, Autons with a yellow plastic daffodil, and he just didn't know how to feel, how to keep on punishing himself when it felt so _good_.  


It felt like the old days, he felt like a hero again rather than the villain, had the evil guys chasing his tails, had someone by his side who would run with him rather than from him.  
  
And he just couldn't help it, he got drunk on the feeling, lost in memories and the moment. A single, tiny moment of feeling okay again.  
  
And it almost didn't hurt, looking at the daffodil and remembering what he had lost, _who_ he had lost.  
But ‘almost not’ still meant it hurt, so he preferred not to look back and simply, beautifully, ran away from it, as he always had.  
  
  
  
He didn't get far.  
  
“They stopped,” Rose noticed after they had made their way into London's sewer system. “Why did they stop chasing us.”  
  
“Ah yes,” the Doctor replied with a shrug, gave his best to seem indifferent. He could already sense the Nestene   Consciousness, the heat radiating from it, the aggression and power and despair.  
  
He drew in a breath. “I'm afraid this wasn't a chase. They were herding us in.”  
  
Rose blinked, once, twice, then dryly remarked: “So we are exactly where they want us?”  
  
He nodded, grinning, from one large ear to the other and he half expected Rose to be scared or annoyed, but she simply shook her head with a little smile she was trying to supress.  
  
Yep, he thought. So gonna have to keep her around.  
  
They kept on walking through the dark and dripping tunnels of London's sewer system and when they eventually reached the Nestene's nest, the first thing the Doctor noticed was the man.  
  
He wasn't plastic, at least from what he could tell, and that usually was accurate. He almost never got it wrong. Well. Fifty percent of the time, really. Twenty-Five. Never mind.  
  
He casted him a discrete glance, then faced the Nestene Consciousness with a pose that suggested more confidence than he had, addressing them according to the Shadow Proclamation protocol. The only laws that had remained, shattered and torn from the war, but something that seemed to give hope to the people who survived, something that promised order and structure after everything had fallen apart.

  
The Nestene calmed down a bit as soon as he mentioned it.

  
The man who wasn't plastic scoffed.

  
Not that he paid him any attention, really. Just saw the scoff from the corner of his eyes. People often commented on how it was a miracle he saw _anything_ out of the corner of his eyes, with ears like his in the way. He didn't particularly like people.

  
(He had also not seen said ears yet. He was sure they were exaggerating. They had to be.)  


He felt Rose behind him tense and he realized all she heard was a low grumbling sound coming from what must've been a very scary pit, but before he could reassure her, the Nestene Consciousness continued talking to him.

  
_“You speak of peace, yet your people have brought war.”_

 _  
_ “The war is over,” the Doctor said, quietly, so shaken up by guilt that it almost physically hurt. “I know what it did to you, to many. But these people have nothing to do with it, they've just learned how to walk. You're taking revenge on the wrong ones.”

  
_“There's no one left alive to take revenge on.”_

 _  
_ What an excellent point.

  
The Doctor had often thought about it. About dying with his people, about how actually staying alive might be a punishment worse than death. About how this was the one consequence he would never, ever be able to run away from.

  
This was just another occasion proving it and he would have to stand his ground once more, facing what he had done to his people, facing what his people had done to the universe.

  
Facing the man's frown.

  
He wasn't even watching, pinkie-promise.

  
“Then don't do it,” the Doctor suggested. “Find a planet to live on, one that isn't already occupied. I could help you.”

  
_“You're a Time Lord.”_

 _  
_ Fine. Maybe he did pay attention to the man a little, that's how he caught his slightly widening eyes.

  
The Doctor sighed.

  
There was a battle raging inside of him, a voice shouting at him to not let hope in, to not ask for a miracle he didn't deserve, to not even believe this for a second, it was screaming, “You're alone! Alone! Alone!” at full volume and he just couldn't turn it off.

  
He also couldn't get rid of the image of the single plastic daffodil in the Auton's hand.

  
“I am,” the Doctor confirmed and after a second of hesitation added. “The only one left. So, if you're trying to take your revenge on me, I need you to consider that I am a man with absolutely nothing to lose.”

  
The man that wasn’t plastic looked at him with unmasked curiosity. The Doctor decided that he had hidden behind lies long enough and turned around ever so slightly, catching his eyes for a few seconds. The man smirked mockingly, then pointed subtly towards something going on behind the Doctor, where Autons were coming closer, holding his anti-plastic liquid in their hands threateningly.

 

Uh-oh.

 

Before the Doctor could react, they had grabbed him from behind, holding him firmly in place. They were quite strong, considering they were just plastic. He wriggled and squirmed but couldn’t loosen their grips.  
  
Ironically, it was Rose who saved him. When everything threatened to fall apart, she had unceremoniously grabbed a rope and swung over to save him (and destroy the Nestene Consciousness, which really, was his own fault. Don’t give humans deadly weapons. Ever. When would he ever learn?)  
  
Before they fled through his TARDIS, he stuck his head out one last time, looking for the man who surely was in absolutely no way the Master. He couldn’t find him, and soon had to shut the door close to avoid the impact of a heavy rock falling down, right to the spot where his head had been.  
  
The Doctor turned around to smash coordinates into the console, while Rose heaved Mickey to the sofa and… there he stood.  
  
Well, of _course_.  
  
No use pretending not to look at him, now. There he stood, hair slightly grey, a graceful look on his face, the chin up in the air in an arrogant pose – The usual, honestly.  
  
The look out of his blue eyes was as sharp as always, seeming to bore right through him.  
  
“He… he’s one of them,” Mickey whimpered, his hands clinging to Rose in panic. The Doctor rolled his eyes, unsure if he’s seen Mickey done anything other than whimpering ever. “He… he was working with them and then they... they…”  
  
“Let me guess,” the Doctor interrupted his stammering with a hard, little smile. “They decided they wouldn’t need his services anymore and threatened to destroy him with the rest of Earth.”  
  
Mickey nodded, still looking at him like he wasn’t sure whether he should be terrified or not.  
  
Both was fine for the Doctor, honestly. He was not planning on keeping him around.  
  
“Yeah. He gets that a lot.”  
  
“I do _not_ …” the Master started, then stopped himself with a huff. “Well, actually, I do, yes.”  
  
“Alive, I see,” the Doctor replied, because he felt like he needed to say something, like this ghost of the past, this shimmer of hope that should never, under any circumstances, be considered _hope_ , would just disappear if he didn’t continue to address it.

The burning question of “why?”, the wondering, the gentle surprise (that was an actual rock of “What the bloody hell?” crashing down on him) and the excitement, all of these were completely trivial to the bigger, stronger urge of “Keep him here!”

“Well, it is my primary setting,” the Master commented with a shrug.

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. How?”

"Wait you… you know him?” Rose asked with shaking voice while Mickey whimpered.

“Now, now, Doctor,” the Master smiled. “I wouldn’t give away all my secrets on the first date now, would I?”

He saw Rose behind the Master, Mickey still clinging to her leg, mouthing the word “date?” back at him.

The Doctor took a deep breath, collecting himself. He had not thought hearing his name in this strange person’s voice - who somehow was the Master - would have this kind of effect on him, yet here he was – And it was strangely uplifting, knowing there was a person in this universe knowing his name without being told what it was. Someone left who truly, truly _knew_ him.

“Date?”, he echoed Rose’s silent question, because, quite frankly, she was raising an excellent point.

The Master chuckled darkly.

“Well, I did leave you flowers, didn’t I?”

He shouldn’t laugh. He shouldn’t even show the slightest of smiles. He should be dark and serious and angry and remember that this life was his punishment, that he didn’t deserve this happening to him, but at the sound of the familiar little laugh, he couldn’t help but feel his spirits rising and at the little joke, he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching.

“The daffodil? Yeah, I’m sorry to say an Auton stole it and then tried to kill me for trying and getting it back. Quite brutal, your friends.”

“Well, if they weren’t, they weren’t my friends, now, were they?”

And while the Doctor was stopping himself from saying “But I am,” while he was still pondering over how what he had done to Gallifrey and the Daleks could be very much considered brutal, while his thoughts went back to find out if they were, in fact, friends, the Master’s hand vanished inside his coat and pulled out a perfect yellow plastic daffodil.

The Doctor stared.

“Uhm,” he said, even as the flower was offered to him with a little, amused smirk.

He took it with a confused frown.

“Thanks?”

“Of course, Doctor. And say, what have you brought for our date?”

The Doctor blinked.

“Well, considering I thought you were dead until ten minutes ago – Not so much.”

“Now, that’s not true. It is, for example, very generous of you to have given me a trip to my TARDIS. I believe some of your Artron Energy will be absorbed by now, so mine will be ready to take off in no time.” He smiled. “How very generous indeed.”

The Doctor threw a quick glance to his monitors and realized that in the little the Master had been in here before the, he had taken over the controls and led them to a whole other time and place without him even noticing.

Rose and Mickey were watching them in puzzled silence.

He sighed.

“Well, that was a short date, then. You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?” the Master grinned and the Doctor, unable to help himself, grinned too.

“Typical. Need a hand? Another TARDIS in the universe… it’s almost great enough for me to forget the trouble you’re gonna cause with it.”

Something in the Master’s smile shifted and the Doctor watched it for a few moments in wonder until he realized what it was – It seemed far, far more genuine now.

“No, it was just out of energy, it should be fine now. Worry not, there’ll be many more… dates to come.” He stepped closer and to the Doctor’s endless surprise, pressed a soft kiss on his lips. While he was still trying to figure out whether he should deepen the kiss (yes please) or step away from it (This is wrong and we haven’t done it in centuries, I’m not even sure I’m a good kisser this time around, what if he hates it?) it was already over.

The Doctor blinked at the Master in desperate confusion, but he just laughed, stepping out of his TARDIS and into his own.

The door felt shut behind his old friend and the Doctor found himself waiting, listening for the familiar sound of a TARDIS dematerializing, looking at Rose and gesturing her to stay silent with a finger on his lips. He wasn’t even sure why, he just knew he needed to hear it, needed to be sure that the Master didn’t just vanish, that he actually left to return again.

When he didn’t hear it after two minutes, he stepped out of his own TARDIS determined, moving towards the Master’s, that, apparently, was disguised as a pillar yet again - as unimaginative as he had ever known him. He hammered against it, shouting for the Master to open the door.

Next to the pillar, a door into a tree opened, and the Master stood leaning against the frame, looking amused.

“Yes, dear?”

The Doctor quickly let his fists sink, considering the possibilities of the Master not having seen this (they were zero in absolutely every calculation. Damn him.) while turning around.

“Stay,” he offered.

He could feel the word stuck in his throat, protesting to go out, fear of rejection, of laughter, of being left alone yet again rising up inside of him, but he ignored all of them.

It needed to be said, this once, this time, he wasn’t going to let this chance pass by.

The Master chuckled.

“I believe staying over night is something most people do after a few more dates,” he replied, and for some reason, the Doctor wasn’t feeling as bad as he had expected. Looking into these sharp, blue eyes and seeing genuine warm seemed to make it okay, somehow.

He sighed.

“We’ve known each other all our lives, I believe we’re past dating.”

To that, the Master laughed.

“Yes. Maybe. And I promise, I won’t be gone long, you know me, I have a tendency of sticking around. But…” And for a second, he let his mask fall and let the Doctor look behind it, into a face full of worry and affection. “You need to forgive yourself. And heal. And as well as we know each other, you also know I am not the person to accompany such a journey. I tend to bring out the worst in you.”

The Doctor let his shoulders sink, just a little. He knew the Master might have a point, but at the same time he hated that they had to part ways again.

“I have just gotten you back.”

“Ah, I would not worry about that. You have that charming young lady and the…” he frowned. “Well the… whimpering… boy. You will be fine. I’ll check up on you once and again.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Checking up on me, meaning you’re gonna bump in with some awful plan, expecting me to sort it out?”

“Naturally.” The Master’s eyes softened. “It’s the only way we work.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

He shrugged.

“It does for now. Goodbye, Doctor.”

He waited, and the Doctor knew what for, smirking slightly.

“Goodbye, _Master_. Stay out of trouble, will you? I’d like to not lose you again to some silly plan of yours.”

To that, the Master laughed, and he could still hear him laugh after he closed the doors and started dematerializing, could hear his words in his mind, and he swore, it was the most soothing thing he had felt in a long, long time.

“Where would be the fun without a bit of trouble?”

Well, the Doctor couldn’t really disagree on _that_. And so he placed the yellow daffodil safely on his nightstand, a constant reminder of the fact that he wasn’t alone, that his oldest friend and lover and enemy was out there, waiting for him, with a whole load of trouble ready to unleash on him.

Probably starting with this flower, that would absolutely attempt to kill him in his sleep – He just considered it to be the Master’s way of wishing him goodnight.

 

 

 


End file.
